Choices
by the lola
Summary: 'And it hits him straight in the gut. Of course he knew. She may be Slytherin, but she's too light for the Death Eater black - too moral, too people-loving, too inherently good, and all of this is breaking her before it's even started. Of course he knew.' Blaise and Daphne - their journey through the war and beyond.
1. Choosing sides

**Word Count:** 329

 **Warnings:** None

 **Challenge/Competition:** Ultimate OTP Competition II (Round 1)

 **Prompt/s:** Daphne/Blaise  & one half of the pairing is voicing doubts about something

 **Disclaimer:** I don't claim to own Harry Potter, it's all JKR's.

* * *

They sit across from each other, cloaked by darkness. He watches her as she folds her legs into her chest and wraps her arms around them, almost as though preparing to disappear into herself. Concern floods his veins, he knows something is wrong - but then again, what is right at the moment?

'Daphne, what is it?' he asks, teeth chattering.

She draws in a sharp breath, a pregnant pause before she replies. 'You know. I know you know. _This._ Picking sides.'

And it hits him straight in the gut. Of course he knew. She may be Slytherin, but she's too light for the Death Eater black - too moral, too people-loving, too inherently _good,_ and all of this is breaking her before it's even started. Of course he knew. 'I understand, but we do have to make a choice,' he says, shakily. Not that there's much actual choosing in it.

'I _can't_ , Blaise,' she replies, strained, like there's a creature inside of her throat, scraping away at her.

He moves across the rooftop to sit alongside her, wrapping himself around her. The atmosphere instantly lightens, if only a little. He knows that, too - that she can't. But what can he do? He has tied himself in knots nearly every night trying to think of a way to drag her out of this. So maybe, he takes his one remaining option. 'Maybe - maybe if I join them, take the mark, they'll leave you out of this...'

Her head snaps around to face him. 'No. You can't do that - not for me, not for anyone. Don't.' She squeezes his hand in a vice-like grip.

Blaise is unconvinced, but he does not say so. He can speak to Draco. Maybe this is the only way and Merlin, he would give anything for that girl. She is everything. 'Then you have to choose,' he tells her softly, and they fall into silence.

* * *

 **AN:** Goooosh, it's been a long time since I've written my lovely OTP! Hope this was enjoyed, reviews and favourites are always appreciated X


	2. Bottle and the answers

**Word Count:** 654

 **Warnings:** Expletives, alcohol abuse

 **Challenge/Competition:** Ultimate OTP Competition II (Round 2) & School of prompts challenge

 **Prompt/s:** Daphne/Blaise  & fear & choice

 **Disclaimer:** I don't claim to own Harry Potter, it's all JKR's.

* * *

He lies in bed, flat on his back with Daphne sound asleep on his chest. His head thumps with the remnants of too much alcohol running through his blood, his eyes burn with regret. Merlin, he wants to kick this. A dark beast grows inside of him, infecting his every thought and every action, and he doesn't know how long it will be till it wins. He's just a sitting time bomb.

Blaise had fooled himself: it was just a phase, it was just the war, we all have scars and ways of dealing with them. But as he stares at the only person he's ever really loved, memories and torments gnawing at his mind, his overwhelming thought is that he needs a drink. _He needs a drink._ Fuck, he thinks, he can't lose her. He just can't. He doesn't have anything or anyone else - he does not want to be Blaise without Daphne.

She sighs softly, and his eyes fixate on her. He looks at her sleeping face and sees the disappointment that marr's it every time he reaches for a drink, that she tries to cover with understanding and soft words and kisses. It's not enough. She cannot hide that split-second when her face falters and she nearly crumples under the weight she is carrying. He sees her - holds her up to the light and renders her transparent, and she does the same for him.

The beast is awakening - he feels the agitation start to wriggle through him, millions of caterpillars in his veins, begging him to have a drink. His brain almost throbs - less out of pain and more out of utter _need_. He looks between the blonde angel on his chest and the draw with a bottle of firewhiskey inside of it. He does not know which he fears more. Losing her or losing the drink. He cannot have both, and to believe that is to be consistently fighting a losing battle.

He clenches his hands into fists, his thoughts attacking each other ferociously - he thinks he might just spontaneously combust. He lets out a sharp sigh. 'Daphne… Daphne,' he says, nudging her lightly.

Her eyes snap open in panic. 'What is it? What's wrong?' she asks, a tangle of panicked words.

'I want to drink. It's 8am and I can't sleep because I want to drink and I'm thinking about wanting to drink and how it's pushing us apart and how I'm going to lose you. And I don't know what to do. I can't lose you. I just can't,' he tells her, desperate, clenching his jaw.

He watches her face falter for that millisecond before she grabs his hand, smiling sympathetically. 'You are not going to lose me, Blaise Zabini. Not now, not ever. We've been through too much. This is just the beginning of our long and happy lives. You don't need to do this, you can get help, okay? And I'll be here. I promise,' she replies, pushing herself up to look him face to face.

The drawer still calls to him, his veins are on fire, but Daphne is at the forefront of his thought. He's not sure that he believes that he deserves this, but he supposes that is what love is - for better or for worse. Though this is definitely for worse, he believes her. She has a way of making him latch onto her words like they are written in stone and the only truth to exist. 'I love you, so much. In truth, I want to get help just as much as I want to drink.'

'It's going to be okay. You've been through a lot. We've been through a lot. We'll pull through. I love you.' She pulls him into a kiss, and for those few seconds, he feels like maybe - just maybe - she is right.

* * *

 **AN -** So guess this is kinda becoming a multi-chap drabble thing. Couldn't resist. Also... this was meant to be fluff, and it became angst. Well, flangst I suppose. Why am I addicted to angst? I'm so cliche, jeez. Reviews are much appreciated! X


	3. Anyway, any day

**Word Count:** 500

 **Warnings:** None

 **Challenge/Competition:** Ultimate OTP Competition II (Round 3)

 **Prompt/s:** Black

 **Disclaimer:** I don't claim to own Harry Potter, it's all JKR's.

 **Note:** Note this collection will not be chronological - I'm thinking it will alternate, but not too sure yet. Obviously this is pre-last chapter.

* * *

He sits opposite Draco, barely recognising the boy that sits in front of him. The pallid, translucent skin and the darkly circled and red-rimmed eyes speak volumes of the side he has chosen, there is barely a whisper of Malfoy evident in his defeated composure.

The atmosphere is awkward, but Blaise can't quite work out why. He clears his throat. 'How are you?' he asks, internally laughing at the stupidity of his question.

'Fine, yeah,' he replies, very monotone, 'what's up?' He visibly clenches his jaw.

How does he even go about this? Merlin. The Draco inside of all those Death Eater layers will be screaming for Blaise to stop being so ridiculous, but all those Death Eater layers are going to give Blaise the exact answer he wants, and he knows it. He has to be sure. A heavy pause. 'I… need to choose a side. Right?'

'Yeah, _choose,'_ the other boy replies, a hint of Malfoy sarcasm. He looks toward Blaise, dead eyes fixing on caramel, and takes in a sharp breath, realising. 'Oh. _Really_ choose? You want to join us?'

Blaise fights off a shudder at the use of ' _us'_. It's not Draco, it's not Blaise, it's just not right. He nods shakily. 'Will I be able to make a deal?'

Draco frowns in response before it clicks - he knows Blaise like a brother, he knows what this is about. 'Daphne?' he asks, and to a murmur in response continues, 'they want you, they would do a lot to ensure that. Maybe even let her sit on the fence.'

And that is all he needed to hear. He sighs in relief. 'I can't make her get involved in all of this - it isn't _her_ \- it will break her. I just can't,' he says, balling up his hands into fists.

The blonde boy nods in reply. 'I understand...' he trails off, as though words fought their way to the tip of his tongue and then abandoned themselves. Weighted seconds pass. 'You'll lose you though, you know? There is nothing in this,' he motions to his arm, 'that is anything less than black. Complete and utter darkness. All consuming,' he whispers, visibly fearful of his own words.

Anxiety slides its way through Blaise's body and he runs ice cold. _Fuck_. It doesn't matter. He'd do it anyway, any day. She'll kill him for it, he thinks, but it's better than killing herself if he doesn't. 'I don't have a choice. I love her. I'll do it - I'll join, if I get that deal,' he replies, unable to hide the tremble in his voice as he attempts to sound strong.

'I'll speak to someone about it, okay?' Draco tells him, and Blaise's throat almost closes over at the realisation he is looking at a mirror and this will become him, too, but he swallows it, and thanks his best friend.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for reviews so far! Hope this was enjoyed - no actual Blaphne interaction, but it's still all about the two of them, really. And a little bit of Draco can never go amiss! A review would be lovely :) X


	4. Look after you

**Word Count:** 310

 **Warnings:** None

 **Challenge/Competition:** Ultimate OTP Competition II (Round 6)

 **Prompt/s:** Daphne/Blaise  & illness

 **Disclaimer:** I don't claim to own Harry Potter, it's all JKR's.

 **Note:** Just in case it isn't obvious, back to the 'present' in this one :)

* * *

She sits at the table, wincing. Pain throbs through her every fiber as she breathes heavily through her mouth. 'I need to go back to bed,' she groans, pulling her unwashed hair back into a ponytail in an attempt to cool down.

Before she can get up, he sets down a plate of fresh fruit and eggs, as well as a glass of orange juice and water. 'No caffeine,' he says, stroking her face, 'feed a cold. Eat.'

Daphne scans his face for traces of a hangover, and she strains through her blocked nose for the smell of any vodka or whiskey. He looks tired, really tired, but he always looks tired now. Dark circles around his eyes, lines in his face that make him look aged beyond his years, it's a far cry from the passionate and youthful Blaise she once knew. 'This is not a cold. This is death,' she replies, slumping onto the table.

'Daph don't joke,' he says, a little too seriously, taking a seat next to her. 'I am going to look after you, okay?' He clenches his hands into fists, something he does when he craves. She notices, and he sees her notice.

'It's just flu, I'm okay,' she says, starting on her watermelon.

He sighs as her sparkly eyes remain fixed on his fists, and he unclenches them. 'Not just now, always, you know? It's me and you. And I know I'm a mess and I can barely look after myself, but I will always look after you.'

She grabs his hand, trying to take his mind off of the cravings, even if for just a couple of seconds. 'Always so serious,' she laughs, which then breaks into a coughing fit, 'I love you. Now come back to bed and nap with me.'


End file.
